Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
She grins, her eyes locked on the guitar. The way she looks at it…it's almost like she's itching to get her hands on it.
I hold it out to her. "You want to give it a try, Sunshine?"
"I…" Her hands actually flutter, her expression torn. She is dying to play. Fuck me. She's a musician. I should have guessed by now, I suppose. She's from Nashville. She's hiding out here, trying to keep a low profile, and she clearly doesn't want anyone to know who she is. All the signs point to her being famous.
"Take it, baby," I murmur softly, encouraging her to follow her heart here. Not just because I know she wants to play but because I need her to know that her secret is safe with me. I don't care who she is back home. I don't care if half the fucking world knows her name. It won't change the way I feel about her.
Trembling hands reach out to take the guitar from me, her bottom lip caught firmly between her teeth. She tunes it with skilled ease, her movements swift and sure.
In a matter of moments, a familiar tune rolls across the cabin as her nimble fingers pluck and strum the strings of the guitar. The notes echo off the wooden walls, wrapping around my goddamn heart like a vise. Each chord is carefully chosen and executed with precision, filling me with a symphony of emotion I didn't expect to feel here and now.
The Army Goes Rolling Along. It's been years since I heard that song. Years since I sang the fucking words, but every single one of them comes back to me now, clogging my throat with emotion. My heart pulses with it. But I lift my voice and sing anyway.
Jesus. This girl. It's like she knows exactly how to get inside my head and heart, claiming every inch of space in both.
Her fingers pluck out the last few notes before falling still on the strings. She carefully sets the guitar aside before meeting my gaze.
"I thought you might like to hear that one," she whispers. "I imagine it's been a while."
"Yeah." I clear my throat roughly. "It has."
"You have a beautiful voice, Caleb."
I exhale through a growl, still choking on emotion. And she plays like a fucking angel. But I don't tell her that. I think it might send her running. And right now, the only place I want her running is into my arms.
Instead, I crowd her up against the wall.
I crash my lips to hers, desperation and desire mingling into one as I step closer, feeling her soft body against my harder frame. Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me into her.
Before I know it, we're devouring one another like we're starving for each other's touch. Who am I kidding? I am starving for her. Every fucking moment of the day.
Our tongues dance and tangle while my hands weave through her hair, holding her head firmly in place. Our rough exhales mix together as we pant for breath. She moans against my lips, a wordless encouragement for me to take what we both want.
Her body trembles with anticipation and need as she melts into me. I feel her nipples harden under the thin fabric of her shirt. Christ, I want my mouth on them.
Koda whines softly at the edge of the room before settling down again, as if acknowledging that whatever this is between us doesn't involve him. He may be a tiny psycho, but he's smart as hell.
Sutton still smells like me, like sex and sunshine. The combination makes me want to bury myself in her and stay there permanently. Fuck yeah. I could spend a lifetime lost in this woman and not regret a second of it.
The guitar strings still resonate faintly in the background, playing in counterpoint to her decadent moans as I slip my hand inside her pants, eager to feel her coming all over my fingers.
"Caleb," she gasps into my mouth, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I continue to explore her slippery cunt with my hand. She arches her back, pushing herself more firmly into my touch, even as she runs her hands down my chest and back, trying to get closer.
Her hair is wild and messy, and I can't help but breathe it in as I nip at her bottom lip.
The wooden floorboards creak beneath our feet with each shift of weight as we grind against each other. Our tongues slide against each other greedily while she bucks her hips against my hand, seeking release.
Her moans echo around the room as I stroke her clit roughly between two fingers while pressing my palm against her entrance. She tastes so good it hurts —like warm sunshine and cool mint.
My cock throbs in my jeans, desperate for release. Hell, I want nothing more than to strip off every stitch of fabric between us and bury myself deep inside her softness. But first, she needs this moment of bliss.